


Of Flowers and Fiends

by Mayflower437



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, LGBTQ Character, No Bashing, Parent Severus Snape, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Severus Snape Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayflower437/pseuds/Mayflower437
Summary: A one-night stand between Lily and Severus leads to the birth of one Anthea Snape. Growing up in her father’s dreary hometown, she cannot wait to receive her letter and learn to wield her powers. But she soon learns the Wizarding World is not the magical refuge she thought it would be.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley & Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape & Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape & Tobias Snape
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

_“And we who were raised_

_By invisible hands_

_And we who were raised_

_On government lies_

_The prodigal children_

_Of the promised land_

_Who's gonna open our eyes?”_

-Anaïs Mitchell, Quecreek Flood

It was early afternoon in the suburbs of Cokeworth, and the only sound that pierced the pouring rain was that of police sirens.

Though the town had been full of crime in its prime, its mill’s closure had made even most lowlifes leave.

After all, what was there to plunder in a dying town?

But the crime that had just occurred was not a small robbery or something of that ilk.

Eric and Violet Evans had been found dead inside their house, which at the time of the police’s arrival had been completely locked.

Stranger still, both bodies were intact, as was the rest of their residence.

The only thing that proved that the deaths were not natural was a note that said:

_Let their deaths be a warning; the Dark Lord sends his regards._

William Jenkins, the young detective in charge of the investigation, sighed. He had never signed up for mysterious murders and pretentious criminals calling themselves “Dark Lords”.

The Evanses had been perfectly normal: they were both retired, married for years and had two adult children. If their deaths were indeed a warning, who was it for?

He hoped their daughters would be able to answer his many questions.

The first to arrive was a red-haired woman, whom he recognised as their youngest. A tiny toddler and an old, bearded man clad in bright purple robes accompanied her, holding a strange stick.

The last thing he remembered before the world turned red was a flash of light and the word Obliviate.

**~•oOo•~**

Lily watched as the policeman fell to the floor. Even after her years at Hogwarts, she was still startled at how powerless muggles were when faced with magic.

Was it better that they knew nothing of it?

Dumbledore placed the man back in his car and turned towards her.

“It’s a miracle Anthy survived. If she hadn’t been with me, she’d be...”

The Headmaster put his hand on Lily’s shoulder, hoping it would comfort her.

Her daughter, a small girl with black hair tied into pigtails, gazed intently at him with her eyes of the same colour.

“Mummy, who’s that?” she asked, pointing at him with her tiny fingers.

“You can trust him, Anthy,” said Lily, crouching to caress her daughter's cheek. “He’s Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

The girl perked up at that, sporting a toothy smile. Dumbledore did so too, but there was no twinkle in his eyes.

Though Lily saw no sign of it, the revelation that she and Severus had sired a child had shaken the usually unfettered Headmaster.

Defeating Tom would take careful planning, and the young turncoat Death Eater was an essential and irreplaceable asset. Dumbledore would have to ensure that this new variable would not interfere with her father’s status.

Lily, who was weeping softly, said, “I don't know what I’ll do with her now. “

“You could take her to her father. I am sure he would take care of her.”

Lily’s mouth was wide open. After a moment of silence, she retorted, “No, Albus. That's the last thing I would do. My best friend has been gone since our fifth year, and a Death Eater has replaced him.”

As he considered her words, Albus looked at the note he had taken from the muggle officer. He recognised the writing immediately, despite how long it had been since he had taught its owner.

He had failed to fell the seeds of darkness in Tom Riddle’s heart, but Severus Snape still had good within him.

“On the topic of Severus, there is something I must tell you,” said Dumbledore. “But we must leave this place before doing so.”

Lily nodded despite her confusion, and the two apparated away.

**~•oOo•~**

Lily and Dumbledore arrived in the Headmaster’s office, and he proceeded to tell the story of Severus’ overhearing of the prophecy and his subsequent defection from Voldemort’s army.

Lily was shocked. Her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, just like it had in that fateful day at the end of their seventh year.

”Albus, are you sure I can trust him?” she asked, her previous desperation replaced by weariness. ”I don't want Anthy to grow up in a terrorist cult.”

The Headmaster sighed before responding, ”I understand why you do not trust Severus. But one thing is sure: he will care for her, just as he cares about you. And I will be watching him.”

”Fine,” said Lily, her face blank. ”But this will not be a reconciliation. That, if it ever happens, can wait until this war is over.”

Albus nodded as Lily and her daughter walked away.

**~•oOo•~**

Lily strode through the familiar streets of Spinner’s End, trying her best not to let her memories of better days haunt her.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape sat in his armchair, reading the day’s newspaper. Caradoc Dearborn, it said, had died in a freak accident.

Severus felt the urge to laugh. “Freak accident”! So that was the Prophet’s new euphemism for murder! After all this time, why were they still trying to conceal the current conflict? Even the most ignorant of wizards knew that they were amidst a war.

That thought made Severus shudder. He had never intended to become involved in such a violent conflict, much less as a spy.

When they were still children, full of youthful excitement, his housemates would talk of the mysterious political movement their parents were involved in with more reverence than even when they listed their noble lineages. Evan Rosier had gone as far as to say he would sacrifice his life for it.

Severus remembered all too well how quickly he had enthralled by the idea of a society in which he would be free to wield the Dark Arts to their full potential, in which everyone would see him as a dedicated disciple of their Lord rather than a poor half-blood.

If the New World Order granted his desires, then it did not matter that he had betrayed his kin and kith to earn his position in it.

You sell your soul; you get your due.

But now that the Darkness’ allure had given way to the reality of war, the Mark that he had cherished as the symbol of his greasiest achievement became the stain of his biggest mistake.

_“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...”_

His thoughts turned to Lily, who had been married to Potter for nearly two years. They had last met when he been caught up in the hustle of both the expenses of his Potions apprenticeship and his upcoming initiation into the Death Eaters.

Their only sexual encounter, fuelled by drunken disregard and their conflicting but passionate emotions, had been nothing short of a disaster.

He wondered what she thought of him now that he had made her son the Dark Lord’s target, before realising that there was no need to engage in more miserable recollections.

He sighed and returned to his reading, before a knock on the door interrupted it. Was it another Death Eater? The Ministry, perhaps, finally come to arrest him? Or was it Dumbledore?

There was only one way to find out.

Grabbing his wand, he headed to the door and opened it.

But as soon as he saw who waited on the porch, his mind went blank, for it was none other than Lily Potter.

Lily was not much older than when he had last seen her, but the war seemed to have hardened her features. She faced him with a steely glare, not even faltering in her step.

“Lily, why...”

“Severus,” she said in turn, and he noticed the toddler beside her whose eyes and hair matched his own.

”I assume you remember that night,” she said, sighing. ”This is Anthea, our daughter.”

Now, even more than when questioned by the Dark Lord, he felt as if his soul was on full display.

“My parents were taking care of her, but I believe you know what happened to them,” she said in an icy tone. “Dumbledore told me about your supposed defection, and he believes that you could raise her well.”

”I’ll do it,” he said, sensing Lily’s desperation and discomfort. They had been so irresponsible! He needed to help her, for he had already caused her so much strife. “Don’t worry, Lily.”

At that, she raised an eyebrow and said, ”I hope I can do so, Severus. I hope he was right about you.”

Then, looking one last time at her former friend, Lily hugged her daughter before closing the door.

He wished he could have said more to his former friend, not knowing it was the last time he would see her alive.

But right now, all that mattered was keeping Anthea safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoy Anthea’s story. I've been trying my best to make her an interesting character in her own right, which will be more apparent in the following chapters.
> 
> As for canon characters and worldbuilding, I’ll be sticking with most of what established in the books and some ancillary media. Certainly not Rowling’s Twitter account, though.
> 
> But this is an AU, so expect some changes, especially regarding elements of the wizarding world that are left vague or ambiguous.
> 
> I'm not entirely pleased with this prologue as I first wrote it one year ago, and both my writing style and my plans for this story have changed significantly since then.
> 
> I might rewrite it again in the future, but I hope it has served as an adequate introduction.
> 
> I'm also not British nor a native speaker, so feel free to point out any mistakes.
> 
> (Updated 6/2/21 for minor stylistic adjustments)


	2. Blossoming

1981 was by far the worst year in Severus' life, despite its steep competition.

Though he had never been all too excited to teach insolent children and indolent teenagers, the incompetence and disregard that most of his students demonstrated were astounding. The daily monotony and frustration of his lessons had turned the subject that had once been one of the few respites of his childhood before Hogwarts into a chore. Why were his students so incapable of following instructions? 

Furthermore, the Dark Lord had been growing desperate. Both the Potters and the Longbottoms had evaded his scouring, despite how much time and resources he had dedicated to it.

Death Eater gatherings were being held frequently and erratically, most involving the torture and murder of random muggles and low-ranking ministry officials.

At the end of every meeting, Severus would stay behind and divulge carefully selected information about Dumbledore and the Order, all the while doing his best to maintain both his act and his mental shielding.

During a ferocious assault, he had let a glimpse of Anthea slip.

Immediately, the Dark Lord retreated from his mind.

"Who is that girl, Severus?" he asked, his voice sibilant and deep.

"She is my daughter, sire," answered the younger man, letting out a reluctant sigh.

The Dark Lord stood still and silent as he processed the information, keeping his expression inscrutable.

"Is that so?" he said, walking around his kneeling servant. "Why then, did you not reveal that information sooner? You know how important the future generation is to our cause."

Behind his unfathomable mask, Severus trembled with fear. Anthea did not deserve to live a life of lies and violence, much less one as a broodmare for future soldiers.

"I apologise, sire," he said, looking directly at the crimson eyes. "My daughter has only been with me for the last few weeks. I was unaware that one of the worthless whores I slept with had given birth."

It pained Severus to talk of Lily in such a way, but lying and feigning vitriol came as quickly to him as breathing.

The Dark Lord chuckled and said, "I understand, Severus. Regardless, I would like to meet your daughter as soon as possible. You and I both know that even those that come from the dregs of our society can become worthy of a place in my New Order. I truly hope she inherits your talents."

Severus shuddered. Even now, a part of him still cherished how quickly he had risen in the Dark Lord's regard. At times, it seemed like the man genuinely thought of him as a friend.

"I shall bring her as soon as possible, sire."

**~•oOo•~**

Anthea sat at the kitchen table, reluctantly eating the tasteless porridge her grandfather had given her.

The man was looking at her with his tired eyes, though he seemed to be elsewhere entirely. Whereas the sight of her father scared her, that of his parent made her sad.

The house in Spinner's End, despite having been her home for some months now, still did not feel as such. She missed her grandparents, their warm smiles, their cosy home and their garden that was oh so slightly overgrown.

But above all else, she missed her mother.

Her mother, with her fiery red hair and green eyes. Her mother, who could make flowers bloom and wilt with only her hands. Her mother, who was everything her father was not.

She had not visited Anthea all that often while she had been with the Evanses, but even that was preferable to now when she never came.

Her father, when asked about why her mother no longer visited, told Anthea that she would understand when she was older. That was always his answer to any complicated question, and would be for years to come.

Wanting to distract herself and having just finished her meal, Anthea decided to find a book to read. Father's bookshelves intimidated her, the tomes that sat on them being a far cry from the colourful picture books Mother had read her.

After a minute of trying to decipher a book littered with words like wicce, egsode and æþelingas, she gave up.

Just as she was about to retreat to her room, the front door opened to reveal her father. As soon as he entered the house, he said, "Come, Anthea. The Dark Lord is awaiting us."

Anthea nodded. Her father had warned her about the meeting with the sinister man who was after her mother and had killed her grandparents. All she had to do was smile and nod, and tell anyone who asked her that she had no idea who her mother was and that she had been living in an orphanage.

"So, you're involving her in your twisted affairs?" asked Grandfather, disgusted. "She's just a child!"

"What I do with my daughter is none of your concern," retorted her father, with a dark frown on his face. "You understand nothing about our world and my role in it."

"I know more than you think, boy," he snarled, clenching his fists. "While you were off licking the boots of those fascist friends of yours, your mother told me everything. She hated your magical society and what it did to her!"

Unlike Grandfather, who had raised his voice, Father's remained soft and quiet, but still icy as he said, "Leave, then. I am under no obligation to shelter you here. This house is mine now, Father."

Tobias' face grew even redder as he looked at Anthea, who was cowering next to the old armchair.

"I hope the girl isn't magical like you! All you wizards do is trample upon us! Kill us, erase our memories! Where is your magic when we're suffering in poverty and dying from diseases you could cure?"

Anthea was about to cry. She understood little of the older men's argument but witnessing it agonised her regardless. She hated her supposed home. She hated her father's aloofness and detachment. She hated how powerless she was.

"STOP!" she cried, feeling a strange energy surge through her body as she closed her eyes to allay her tears. When she opened them, the first thing she saw was the two men lying on the ground; their mouths agape and gazes fixed on her.

**~•oOo•~**

Anthea's burst of accidental magic had caused her grandfather to relent, but she could see it had shaken him, and to a lesser extent, her father.

What had happened to make them hate each other so much?

She had the feeling neither of them would answer if she asked.

After a nauseating trip, Anthea and her father arrived before a large manor, located in the middle of a forest.

Two figures draped in black robes and wearing silver masks raised their wands at them, at which her father drew back his left sleeve, revealing a strange black mark inked on his forearm.

Then, the guards, seemingly satisfied, allowed them entry.

While her father headed into the house's main room to attend his meeting, Anthea was left in the foyer with only a house-elf to keep her company.

Ten minutes passed, and Anthea found herself bored with doing nothing. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she eavesdropped, would it?

Deciding against her better judgement, she headed towards the slightly open door.

**~•oOo•~**

"Yes, my children," said the Dark Lord, clasping his hands. "Our victory is ever closer. We have agents in every department of the Ministry, and even those who oppose me are not willing to join Dumbledore and his pathetic militia. Soon, we will no longer have to see Mudbloods and Blood traitors destroy our traditions."

He paused for emphasis, leaving only Bellatrix Lestrange's cackles to break the silence.

"I will be leaving tomorrow. When I return, we will have awakened to a new world."

Severus hoped that ominous statement was just another platitude. With the Dark Lord, it was often hard to tell.

"This meeting is now adjourned," he said, with a nonchalant wave. "I believe you all know where to go for your tasks. Except for you, Severus; you shall remain here."

He nodded and followed his master to a room located on the manor's second floor, which seemed to have become his study.

Though Lestrange Manor had only been the Death Eaters' base of operations for a month, their leader had already made it his own. The bookshelves were decked with thick tomes, ranging from ancient grimoires to philosophical treatises and manifestos authored by Dark Wizards of the past.

After Severus completed his report on Hogwarts and Dumbledore, the Dark Lord asked about Anthea.

"She's in the foyer, shall I bring her here?" he asked.

"Yes."

**~•oOo•~**

Anthea watched as the meeting's attendees vanished in puffs of smoke, even more confused than she had been beforehand. What had the evil man meant when talking about a new world? Even though they had not caught her, perhaps it would have been better not to have watched the meeting after all.

Suddenly, the hall's door opened. There stood her father; with a worried look. "Come, Anthea. It is time to face Him. Remember to do as I said."

The two went up to the study, where the dark man awaited them. At first glance, he seemed perfectly ordinary and even handsome. He was tall and imposing, with pale skin and high cheekbones. His jet black hair was neatly trimmed and accentuated by his piercing eyes, whose crimson colour was the sole indication that the charming political activist "Thomas Gaunt" was, in reality, the feared Lord Voldemort.

"So this is Anthea, I presume?" asked the man, with an unassuming smile on his lips. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Your father has long been one of my most reliable servants."

"Thank you," she said, forcing a smile. "It's nice to meet you too."

The man chuckled. "I can feel her fear of me, Severus. She right to feel that. But I can see something else."

"Your child will grow strong. I can see her being a formidable asset to our cause. She is innocent still, but we know how fickle and fragile innocence is."

What did that mean, Anthea, wondered? Never before had praise scared her so much.

"You are both dismissed," said the man, at last, after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "I look forward to seeing your daughter's growth."

When Anthea went to sleep that night, her dreams were filled with visions of green lights and crimson eyes.

**~•oOo•~**

The last day of October began like any other. Severus’ fellow teachers looked at him with suspicious stares and his students with veiled glares. No one took him seriously. To the former group, he was a Death Eater. To the latter, he was still the scrawny creep who had had no friends.

Everything changed when the feast began. Dumbledore had just finished his Halloween speech when a man, whom Severus faintly recognised as one of the Headmaster’s associates, burst into the Great Hall.

“You-Know-Who is dead!” declared the intruder, and all chatter in the room came to a halt. Even Dumbledore seemed shocked.

A spark of hope lit in Severus' heart. Could it be true; was this nightmare over? And what of Lily?

“He had just killed James and Lily Potter, but when he tried to do the same to their son, he perished.” The man continued, drawing gasps from the crowd. “Long live Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!”

All at once, Severus’ world fell apart. Lily was gone, and he had killed her.

When he arrived home later that night, still caught in a maelstrom of grief and desolation, he blurted out to Anthea, “Your mother is dead.”

Anthea was a precocious child, but upon seeing her reaction, he could tell death was still something she could not fully fathom.

The girl had stayed silent for a moment, before saying, “So she’s never coming back, like my grandparents?”

He nodded, feeling numb.

The look on his daughter’s face was one of sheer hopelessness and confusion as she murmured, “Okay."

For the first time since they had met each other, he hugged Anthea as they wept together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for reading! Today, for those unaware, would have been Snape’s sixty-first birthday. I find it quite tragic how young he died, and how much of his life he squandered. 
> 
> As for Tobias and his inclusion in this story, I think both him and Eileen are intriguing characters. We see little of them, and what we do know about their raising of their son is coloured by his vague and probably biased recollections. As for what role he will play in this story, stay tuned to find out.
> 
> The next chapter will have some time skips, so you will not have to wait for too much to see Anthea go to Hogwarts.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> (Updated 6/2/21 for minor additions and stylistic adjustments)


	3. Last House on Spinner’s End

The years after Mother's death were fleeting and disparate in Anthea's recollections.

She still did not love her new home and the slums of Cokeworth which surrounded it, but their desolation brought her a strange sort of comfort, as did the constant pouring rain.

Father, while still far from a bastion of benevolence, had grown less aloof and guarded around her. He had even come to enjoy his employ somewhat.

Conversely, Grandfather, who had erst been so outspoken and eager to deploy his paltry authority as the Snape patriarch, was becoming a shadow of his former self.

In his youth, Anthea had heard, Tobias Snape had been quite formidable. He had fought in the Second Great War and returned to England with a fiery passion for bringing upon a workers' revolution.

By the time Anthea was born, the revolutionaries of Cokeworth had become drunkards and vagabonds, and their failed cause a forgotten memory.

Tobias, perhaps due to his knowledge and resentment of the magical world, had been hit the hardest.

In Anthea's younger years, he would accompany her to school and then head to the local pub to drown his sorrows and rant to his friends about Prime Minister Thatcher. By the time Anthea was 10, he seldom left the house at all.

But not everyone in her life was as wretched as her family members.

Soon after Mother's death and the discovery that Anthea's stay at Spinner's End would be permanent, her father introduced her to his old friends, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Lucius was cold and formal like her father, and Anthea got the impression that he had modelled his speech and behaviour on the older man.

Narcissa, meanwhile, doted on her as if she were her daughter. Anthea would later discover that the Malfoy matriarch had had multiple miscarriages before finally begetting her son, and had always wanted a girl.

Visits to Malfoy Manor became a frequent affair, as Narcissa had seen fit to educate her surrogate daughter on the workings of pureblood society and its many customs. One of which was learning French.

The more she studied it, the less Anthea understood why it was considered sophisticated, for it was a strange language full of nasal sounds, guttural groans and grammatical oddities.

"Why do the French do it that way?" Anthea asked Aunt Narcissa during one of her lessons. "Wouldn't it be easier just to put the verb in the past tense instead of having to use an auxiliary? Why is the simple past considered too formal?"

Narcissa laughed. "Anthea, loath as I as I am to admit it, I do not know. You could ask a linguist about that, but for now, do not question it. The French have several peculiarities."

Anthea sighed and returned to filling out her conjugation table.

The Malfoys' son Draco, while usually friendly to Anthea, was somewhat of a prat. He would always ask her inane and absurd questions as if she were some sort of Muggle expert.

"What is a muggle school like?" asked Draco, saying the word with incredible vitriol.

"Boring." answered Anthea, frustrated at the mere thought of Cokeworth Primary. She had never been good at making friends with her classmates. Due to having always known she was destined for a different life, she saw forming friendships with most Muggles as pointless. They would never be able to understand her, and even if they could, what would happen to those friendships once Hogwarts whisked her away?

The other children also knew she was different, despite not knowing precisely why. They spoke about her father in hushed whispers and made sure to avoid her.

Anthea could not wait to be rid of them.

**~•oOo•~**

Anthea yawned as she awoke, dreading the day ahead. Her eleventh birthday had come and gone, and she had not yet received her letter. She could only imagine how painful it would have been to have been born after September.

Her routine during weekdays was like clockwork: get dressed, make breakfast, and go to school. Thankfully, today was July 31st, the final day she would have to repeat it.

Her thoughts as she made her meal were focused on the months to come, and all the magic she would learn.

She smiled as she daydreamed, before noticing she had burnt her bread. Thankfully, her father was still at Hogwarts. She knew how much he hated when she was careless, especially since the day she had ruined one of his potions.

"Burnt your food again? You need to be careful, Eileen."

Anthea turned towards the staircase, before which stood the haggard and sullen Tobias Snape, who was about to correct his mistake when she interrupted him.

"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm used to it."

Tobias did nothing but sport a vacant stare. Moments like this made Anthea wonder if Muggles were indeed unable to see ghosts.

She shrugged and ate her burnt bread, as she knew not to waste food. Her father had ingrained that idea in her from a young age.

"We are not rich purebloods like the Malfoys, Anthea," he had said, his voice taking on the harsh tone he used with his students. "When I was your age, such waste would not be tolerated."

Upon finishing her food, she headed upstairs to fetch her satchel and prepare to face her final monotonous day of muggle school. When she was about to walk out, her grandfather spoke again.

"Goodbye, Eileen, " he said, and Anthea did not bother to correct him.

**~•oOo•~**

The local primary school was a derelict building made of the same cobble as the two-up two-downs of Spinner's End, surrounded by a courtyard overgrown with thistles.

Several students stared as Anthea walked into it, with some averting their eyes when they met hers. There was one exception: a slip of a girl, pale-skinned and dirty blonde-haired, who ran towards Anthea at first sight, a smile on her face.

Emma Sinclair was the only muggle Anthea could remotely call a friend, a sweet and inquisitive girl two years her junior. Younger children were easier to influence and manipulate, and tended to unconditionally trust and admire those older than them. At times, Anthea envied the girl's carefree gaiety and naïveté.

"Anthy!" she cried, her wide smile revealing her braces. "I almost thought you wouldn't come."

"Why wouldn't I?" asked Anthea, smirking. "You know how much I'll miss you when I go away. I needed to say goodbye, even if it means listening to Mrs Rogers' speeches."

The younger girl rolled her eyes at the mention of their school's cranky headmistress. "You're lucky, Anthy. You'll never have to hear them again after today. I wish I could go with you!"

Anthea smiled, but deep down, she felt somewhat sad. She had not been able to resist telling her friend about Hogwarts, albeit in a limited fashion. Anthea didn't think anyone would take a nine-year old's tales about her friend's fantastical school seriously, so she didn't worry about being berated for breaking the Statute. Perhaps things would have to change in some years, but for now, there was nothing to worry about.

"Anyway, I have something to give you," said Emma, retrieving a blue hair bow from her bag, which was almost identical to the yellow one she wore. "I think it'll look nice on you, and you'll have something to remember me!"

Anthea took the bow and hugged her friend. "Thanks, Emma! I'll try it on as soon as I can. But don't about me forgetting you. You'll always be my best friend."

The bell rang, and the two girls ran towards the building for their last day of term.

**~•oOo•~**

After eating at the local chippy to celebrate the holidays, Anthea and Emma parted ways, promising to see each other as soon as possible.

Anthea had just arrived home when her father appeared from within the fireplace, looking exhausted.

She muttered some quick greetings, well aware that trying to initiate conversations when her father returned from work was a terrible idea, as more often than not, he would just complain about some of his more troublesome students.

She thought of asking about when her letter would arrive but decided instead to head to her room. Father, for once, was probably as clueless as she was in that regard.

When she went to sleep later that day, she hoped she could get some rest in spite of her worries and anxiety.

**~•oOo•~**

Anthea was standing in a street surrounded by beautiful houses, late at night. In the distance, she could hear laughter and children's voices, but this particular stretch was silent and empty.

Or at least, it had been.

The roof of the house before her had collapsed in a flash of green light, leaving nothing but rubble.

The last thing she saw was a man wearing white gloves, laughing maniacally as he examined the ruin.

The young girl gasped as she awoke, breathing in huffs. It had been years since she had last had this dream. She had thought she no longer needed to drink daily vials of Dreamless Sleep, but evidently, she had been wrong.

With a yawn, she left her bed, peeking behind the curtains to see what time it was. To her surprise, an owl sat behind them, holding a letter in its beak. Anthea immediately knew what it was.

Ms A. Snape

The Second Bedroom

Last House On Spinner's End

Cokeworth

Manchester

She grinned as she opened it, elated to receive her Hogwarts letter finally. All thoughts of her dream vanished as she ran towards her father's room, not even bothering to check if he was awake.

"Father!" she exclaimed, brandishing the unopened letter. "It's here!"

Her father, an early bird such as she, sighed and closed the book he was reading. He gave her one of his rare smiles and said, "Very well, Anthea. We shall head to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

She grimaced at his matter-of-fact tone and words, but then smiled and hugged him. "Thanks, Father!" She closed the door and left.

**~•oOo•~**

Severus reopened his book and sighed. As much as his daughter resembled him, she also increasingly reminded him of Lily.

_"Sev!" exclaimed his friend, running towards the willow under which they always met. "I've got my letter!"_

_She showed him the piece of parchment and squealed in delight. "One of the teachers also came. Can you believe she did actual magic? Tuney was so mad!"_

_"Serves her right," he said, grinning. "I can't believe you still tolerate that hag. No; calling her one is an insult to hags."_

He snapped away from his reverie. Lily was gone, and Anthea was not in any way her mother.

_"He has his mother's eyes..."_

He closed his book, hoping that tearing apart some atrocious essays would lighten his mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for reading! The next chapter will feature the standard Diagon Alley plot, and after that, Hogwarts at last.
> 
> Going forward, this story will feature some other characters of my creation aside from Anthea, but most important players will have at least been mentioned in canon.
> 
> (The gloved man shown in this chapter is not an OC. Or at least, not exactly one.)
> 
> On a final note, I have just realised that today is the fifth anniversary of Alan Rickman’s death. Time does fly, and I wish he were still amongst us.
> 
> Anyhow, see you all next time!
> 
> (Updated 6/2/21 for minor additions and stylistic adjustments)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoy Anthea’s story. I've been trying my best to make her an interesting character in her own right, which will be more apparent in the following chapters.
> 
> As for canon characters and worldbuilding, I’ll be sticking with most of what established in the books and some ancillary media. Certainly not Rowling’s Twitter account, though.
> 
> But this is an AU, so expect some changes, especially regarding elements of the wizarding world that are left vague or ambiguous.
> 
> I'm not entirely pleased with this prologue as I first wrote it one year ago, and both my writing style and my plans for this story have changed significantly since then.
> 
> I might rewrite it again in the future, but I hope it has served as an adequate introduction.
> 
> I'm also not British nor a native speaker, so feel free to point out any mistakes.


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